Unconventional Flirting (which comes naturally to both Steve and Tony)
by allthingsavenger
Summary: In which Tony finds some interesting sketches in Steve's sketchpad and decides to leave one himself.


Tony groaned and blinked and when his eyes watered he turned off the blowtorch and stretched his neck. Something cracked and okay, that definitely wasn't a good sign.

"What time?" he slurred.

"3:35 am, Sir," Jarvis promptly replied.

"Hurrrrmmgh," he declared eloquently and pushed his chair back from the worktable. Dum-E appeared at his elbow and whirred softly making him give a half-hearted laugh which turned into a cough halfway.

"When did I ea.." he trailed off, collapsing spread-eagled onto the couch halfway through the sentence.

"The last proper meal you had was fifteen hours ago," Jarvis answered anyway and Tony swore on his father's grave he could hear the tone of disapproval in the artificial intelligence's voice. Or maybe it was just a figment of his imagination.

Either way, he couldn't really care less as exhaustion dragged him to unconsciousness.

* * *

The first thing Tony felt, rather than saw when he woke up was something sharp digging into his wrist. He ignored it, screwing his eyes shut as he tried to remember why his body was protesting every slight movement.

"What the heeeeell," he grumbled into what he had figured was the couch and then, when he managed to pull himself upright, "uurgggghhh."

He opened his eyes after his neck made alarming cracking noises at every angle he stretched it and his spine had creaked at least five times.

"Not good," he said when his eyes had focused enough for him to see that he'd knocked over Steve's glass of water as he had been flopping sprawled onto the couch and Dum-E had tried to clean it up but probably made it worse in the process.

The thing digging into his wrist turned out to be Steve's sketch book and Tony took a moment to feel relieved that he hadn't crushed it or spilt anything on it before he lifted his hand to scratch the edge of his beard. The end of his pinky caught on the sketch book and flipped it open as he raised his hand and he paused, a morbid sense of curiosity creeping over him slowly as the sketch registered in his mind, the sure dark strokes and lighter, soft lines which twisted and flowed into what was undeniably, a drawing of him.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here" he said diabolically for dramatic effect and reached out a hand and then stopped suddenly halfway. He didn't want to look at Steve's sketch book without his permission but Steve wouldn't have left anything he didn't want Tony looking at in the workshop. He hesitated for a second of indecision, then reached for the sketch book tentatively. If he found anything on the too private side, he thought, he'd put it down.

* * *

Steve sidled downstairs to the workshop, rolling a pencil between his fingertips and peeked around the doorway to see if Tony was inside.

"Hey," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards.

Tony lifted a hand in greeting without turning from his position bent over the benchtop.

Steve smiled, couldn't stop himself and walked over to the couch, dropping himself lazily into it.

"What are you nerding on now?" he asked and Tony finally turned around to give him a serious look which was ruined by the way he bit his lip to stop himself from smiling. Steve committed it to memory and picked up his sketchbook.

"Hey fine, don't tell me," he said, throwing up his hands and turned around on the couch to flip to the most recent drawing in his sketchbook. When he reached it, he froze, fingers brushing over the piece of paper slotted between the latest drawing and a blank page.

Steve turned slightly to look at Tony but he had already turned back to his project, poring over his blueprints and odds and ends. Steve turned back and swallowed, sliding a finger down the edge of the new page and after a minute, made up his mind and flipped it.

For a minute, he was confused. There was a drawing there, but it wasn't his. When his mind caught up, he dropped the entire sketchbook on the floor.

Steve turned to look over the back of the couch but Tony didn't turn around so he bent down and picked up the book again, resting it on his knees as he gingerly flipped it open.

There was no doubt that Tony had drawn it because it was humorous in the same light, playful way that he was and sincere at the same time. Steve winced because it meant Tony had probably looked at his drawings, which honestly, he didn't mind and in fact, he'd wanted to share them for a while but he hadn't been sure how Tony would have reacted. Judging by the drawing though, which was rough and sketchy at best, Steve was pretty sure it would've been a positive one.

He smiled to himself, couldn't help it and committed the drawing of him in full Captain America regalia carrying Tony (who was sporting a wedding dress) in bridal style to memory.

Picking up a pencil, Steve sketched a picture of Captain America kissing Iron Man on the cheek in the middle of New York, Tony tapping and hammering away at his projects across the room. When he was done, he stood up and went upstairs to make lunch and left the sketchbook balanced precariously on the arm of the couch.

* * *

Tony made himself sit still until Steve had been gone for two minutes before he leapt off his seat and bolted to the couch to grab the sketchbook. Steve hadn't removed his crappy drawing, if anything it seemed to be firmly lodged into the space between two pages. Which was a good sign. Dum-E rolled over to him and poked him with a claw.

"No stop, Dummy," Tony said, pushing a hand into Dum-E's camera with a grin.

Steve had left a drawing for him and when he saw it he choked, flabbergasted on seeing Captain America kissing Iron Man on the cheek.

"Cheeky, cheeky," he said when he finally got his breath back.

"Jarvis, what is Steve doing?"

"Captain Rogers is currently in the kitchen looking for sandwich ingredients in the fridge."

"Hmm," Tony hummed and grabbed Steve's pencil off the coffee table, settling down on the couch.

* * *

Twenty three drawings and three and a half weeks later (yes, he had counted, so what?), Steve went down to the workshop to see Tony's latest scrawl which appeared to be a drawing of Iron Man flying through the air holding Captain America bridal style with a rose in his mouth. There was a rose wedged into the sketch book and Steve pulled it out, smiling ruefully. There was a sticky note taped to the rose and Steve flipped it around, reading, come to the roof.

"Okay," he told Dum-E, patting the bot's camera and picked himself up off the couch, making his way to the door.

"Don't break anything," he said, pointing a finger at Dum-E who lowered his camera shamefacedly "I'll be back… probably."

The lift took Steve all the way up to the top floor where he had to take the fire exit up to the roof. When he pushed open the door, he was buffeted by a gust of wind, forcing him to squint his eyes.

"Tony?" he called but there was no answer.

After a minute, he noticed the dark lines running across the roof, meeting at random points and then splitting again. Eventually, the distinct shape of a shield sprang out at him, the star criss-crossing over the edges of the roof.

Steve shut the fire escape door, walking cautiously to the middle of the star and knelt, running his hands over the distinct black lines. Soot came off on his fingers and he smiled wryly because of course Tony had used his repulsors to draw.

"You like it?" a voice said from behind him and Steve smiled to himself before straightening and turning around.

"Perhaps," he said, raising an eyebrow in time to see Tony look affronted.  
"Perhaps," Tony mimicked under his breath but Steve heard him anyway.

"Hm?" he said.

"Do you know what day it is?" Tony said instead and the curiosity on his face made Steve pause, mulling over it.

"Perhaps."

Tony gave him a dubious look and Steve could trace the beginnings of a smirk on his lips.

"Really?" Tony said, sliding over to stand in front of him.

"Really," Steve repeated then, bring up the rose in front of him added, "but I did find this."

Tony grinned.

"I've got some more of those," he said with a sly look. Steve narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth but Tony cut him off.

"Look over there," he said, pointing to the edge of the roof. Steve looked and, when he couldn't see anything out of place, looked again. He cast Tony a questioning look but Tony just gave him a complacent smile.

He shrugged and walked over to the edge, scanning the horizon. When he eventually thought to look down, he froze, eyes wide.

A deep crimson floral arrangement winked up at him from street level, spelling out, **Steve, be my Valentine?**

He heard Tony's snicker from his elbow and turned around, meeting amused brown eyes.

"A bit overdone," Tony admitted, "but what do you say?"

Steve watched him for a long moment, contemplatively until Tony twitched under his gaze. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a sheet of paper, handing it to Tony.

Tony unfolded it scrupulously and broke out into a smile. Steve smiled back, couldn't stop himself.

"You have to tell me first," Tony said. Steve smiled almost shyly and he could feel the beginnings of a blush.

"Yes," he said finally.

Tony stared at him for a moment then broke their gaze to take a pen out of his pocket and scrawl something on the paper. He handed it back to Steve.

Steve looked down, glancing over his drawing of Captain America kissing Iron Man's hand with the caption, **Tony, be my Valentine?** Scrawled underneath, at the very bottom was yes.

Steve smiled and he knew Tony wouldn't forget to laugh at his dimples later but he didn't care. Tony smiled his dazzling smile and grabbed Steve's hand, tugging him back towards the door.

"Come on, I booked an expensive restaurant for us," he said, "all we've done is flirt for three and a half weeks and I'd like to take you out so I can make out with you afterwards."

Steve didn't move and Tony turned back around looking exasperated until he saw the look Steve was giving him.

"What?" he asked self-consciously.

"You don't have to take me out before we make out," Steve said, his cheeks flushing even as he said it. Tony gave him a look of disbelief.

"Really," he said and it was more of a statement than a question.

"Really," Steve repeated quietly.

Tony took a step closer to him and grinned lopsidedly, glancing at Steve's lips.

"Okay," he said and grabbed a handful of Steve's shirt, tugging him forward to meet his lips.

Steve made a surprised sound in his throat, one hand still holding Tony's, the other clutching the crimson rose.

"I still want to take you out," Tony said after he pulled away and Steve smiled at him dopily.

"Okay," he said and this time he complied when Tony pulled him away from the edge of the roof.


End file.
